


Stronger

by ScottishAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Healing, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam is Dead.. sort of, Slow Build, Writer Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottishAngel/pseuds/ScottishAngel
Summary: After the Apocalypse. Sam is gone. Dean went to Lisa and Ben, but he knew something was missing. Unable to be satisfied Dean takes a page out of Chuck’s books (quite literally) and he hits the road. Not for hunting; this go around Dean is writing.ORThe one where Cas is a clueless idiot, Dean is a stupid idiot, Gabe is a careless idiot, and Sam is sick of them all being idiots.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Trying to keep faith and picture his face/ Staring up at me/ Without losing a piece of me/ How do I get to heaven?/ Without changing a part of me/ How do I get to heaven?"
> 
> Heaven by Troy Sivan feat. Betty Who

“ _‘And so it goes; unaware of the world around her and what she just escaped, Ms. Montgomery walks over her threshold back to the life she never knew she almost lost. She didn’t know, nor did she need to know, of the things that lurked in the dark, the things not even our nightmares can dream up._

_~until next time. D.Smith’_

_Posted 3.11.11 at 10:59 pm_ ”

The screen immediately lit up as viewers logged onto the blog to read the newest horror story. Dean slammed the screen shut before the comments started rolling in.

The motel room was dim, a faint humming emanating from a single light created the only barrier between Dean and pure silence. Another story done, another town checked off the list. After six months of travelling would he ever be used to it? The emptiness of the world contained within a single, damp, one-bed motel room. Dean didn’t know if it would get easier, but he knew it was right where he needed to be.

Leaning back Dean opened up his journal, a rough leather book just like his dad’s only much, much thicker. Reading the next entry he sighs and puts a red x next to the town name on the top of the page—Lafayette, Indiana. Some towns have stories that need telling; others have stories not even horror fans would believe. Those stories would just have to die with him. He turns the page.

Cornwall, Connecticut.

Dean stretched as he stood to shower, kinks building in his shoulders as he finally stopped hunching over the keyboard for the night. The musty bathroom greeted him with a flickering light and a dripping tap, nothing new and certainly nothing worth getting anxious about. Despite not actively hunting Dean hadn’t been idle, there was a vamp nest he dusted back in California and Bobby sent him on goose chases every now and then to keep him busy. Most of the time they were busts but sometimes there was a rogue spirit or demon to deal with. The Apocalypse meant things went pretty quiet for a while. Hell was back to normal, so back to being hell—standard demon deals being about the biggest thing on the radar for the last year. Heaven, as far as Dean was concerned had locked its gates tight and thrown away the key. No word from Cas, no omens of angel activity, not even a vision from Chuck. He just assumed with Michael gone the chaos must be keeping everyone busy as management was sorted out. So all was quiet, and Dean did as he liked.

The hot water filled the tiny room with steam, condensing on the mirror and shower as Dean tried to close his mind.

Guitar chords blare out from the main room.

“Damnit”. Dean turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist as he hurries to drag the damn phone out of his jacket.

“Hello,” he rumbles as he shakes the water and soap out of his hair.

“You missed our phone call this week, ya idjit.” Bobby’s voice was a welcomed surprise as Dean silently counts days in his head. “You know I’ll hunt you down and kill you if you go silent on me, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a wad old man. I lost track of the days.”

“Watch it, I may still come hunt you down.” Dean rolls his eyes as he sinks into bed, the towel snagging on the bed and coming loose as he lies back.

“Course ya will...Whatcha got Bobby?”

There’s a small pause on the phone as Dean hears some papers ruffle.

“Not much kid. I got wind of a spirit not far from you, but word has it you took it down already. Normal activity on the demon front, I’ve got Ash looking out for any crossroad activity. Hell any demon activity at all.” There's another pause. “Any word from Cas?” The gruff tone faded slightly at that as a sigh escaped Dean’s lips.

“Nope. I’ve stopped calling Bobby. I figure he’s got himself locked up in angel town now that he’s all juiced up.” The lie came out so naturally it surprised Dean as Bobby bought it without a second thought; Dean still prays to Castiel every night.

“Are you gonna tell me where you are or am I just gonna have to wait for the next surprise visit?”

“Ha, someone’s in a bad mood. What, boredom hitting you already?”

“Remind me to give you a good ass-kicking the next time you come round.” There’s a smile in Bobby’s voice, “I just worry about you. It’s not like you’re great at this communication crap.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be around soon. And I’m safe Bobby. I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll call ya next week okay?”

“Okay. If you need me, call.”

“Thanks Bobby.” The phone clicks shut and Dean closes his eyes. Bobby’s phone calls reminded him of how empty the world could be.

The rest of the night passes normally. After brushing his teeth and packing his bag, a cold beer is cracked open and Dean sits at the table next to the open journal. Another town awaits him with another story to tell. The leather cover slams shut disrupting a photo from the pages and sending it fluttering to the floor. Lisa’s brown eyes smile up at Dean as leans to pick it up, sinking into a memory as he does…

\--8 months ago--

“Come on Ben, dinner!” Lisa’s voice rings out from the kitchen as she lays plates onto the table. Her smile catches Dean’s eye as he sets a plate of burgers and hot dogs out fresh from the grill. “I swear that boy won’t stop playing with those cars you bought him for his birthday.”

“Yeah, he’s got a knack for them. I was thinking about showing him how to tune up the truck. I need to do it anyway.” Lisa smiles as Dean absentmindedly kisses her head before grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Sorry mom.” Ben comes rushing down the stairs and grabs a hot dog as he sits across from Dean.

The table is quiet as they eat; Lisa makes as much small talk as she can, asking Ben about school and Dean about the job site he’s currently at, but not much is said and they finish their meal in comfortable silence. Dean’s mind is much louder than he is, it’s filled with thoughts of the life he lost.

“Dean?” Lisa pulls him back to reality with concern in her eyes, “Weren’t you just saying you’d like to teach Ben about the truck?”

He smiles at her before taking a bit of burger, “Yeah, if you want to learn that is.” He winks at Ben, who nods eagerly. “It’s settled then. I’ll open her up this weekend and we will give her a good, thorough check up.”

\--Now--

The memory fades as Dean slides the photo back into place behind the one of him and Sam and in front of an image of Cas. He quickly closed the book, trying not to spend too long looking at his absent friend.

“Damnit Cas. How long do I have to keep praying to you before you answer me? Come on man. Just let me know you’re up there. Please?”

Nothing. Just like normal.

With a huff, Dean shoves the journal into his bag and collapses into bed. He flips off the light and rolls onto his stomach, falling asleep in the lonely hotel room.

Outside the rain starts up soaking the blue-eyed angel watching in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter has a song attached to it! let me know your recommendations!


	2. Another Set of Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And time heals all, but somehow I'm still broken/'Cause parts of me ain't ever gonna mend/There's an angel looking out for me/'Cause I ain't well/Though I try to be/I'm dancing all alone/'Cause I can hear you sing,/I need my angel/Like heaven needs another set of wings"
> 
> Another Set of Wings by Rocket to the Moon

The alarm woke him up way too early, but Dean sat up anyway. The road awaited him.

The pristine 67 Impala growls to life as Dean pulls out onto the main street, putting the town in his rearview mirror. Rock music blares out the open windows as they tear across the country with Cornwall, Conneticutt set in his sights.

…

The pale painted motel finally crawls into view as Dean pulls up in front. He’s thankful the place stayed open, last time he was here they were supposed to be closing. The parking lot has a small number of cars scattered in front of rooms and a few kids are running in the lawn tugging on a kite. Dean smiles as he grabs his bag and heads inside. A young woman smiles as he arrives at the front desk. He smiles back and she bats her eyelashes at him as she looks him up and down.

“I’d like a single room please.” He pulls out his wallet as she happily works to find a decent room for the attractive stranger. “Preferably a quiet one on the end if you can,” he adds with a wink.

“Of course, Mr…” He slides her a credit card. “Mr. Smith. You have room 42, just on the end to your right. Do you need any help with your bags?” She looks hopeful as she goes to move from behind the counter before realising Dean only has a duffel and a small backpack with him.

“No thank you...” he glances at the name tag, “Sarah. Do you know of any good places to eat around here though?” 

She smiles again, “There’s not much round here but if you go north over the bridge by the lake there’s a place called the Black Rabbit or The Boathouse up in Lakeville or you could go to When Pigs Fly over in Sharon. We don’t get too many visitors around here. Are you a hiker?”

He meets her eyes for a second before picking up his bag, “no, I’m just passing through.” She smiles as Dean takes his key and moves Baby over to room 42, on the end just as he liked it. Throwing his bag on the bed he pulls out his computer and the journals, his and his dad’s to go over notes before heading off into town to find his latest muse. The entry for Cornwall brings back memories of Sam from years past, but now is not the time for dwelling--that will come later. Dean wipes his misty eyes and grabs the computer before hopping into the Impala and roaring west towards Sharon. He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t notice the flicker of the motel sign or the shadow under it.

The red BBQ joint smells of southern food and Dean can’t help but drool as the waitress places the burger and a second beer down in front of him. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Her eyes are so blue for a second Dean hopes they came attached to someone else. 

\--13 months ago--

“You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man I believed you to be,” the gruff voice was thick with remorse and sincerity. Dean hid his emotion as he sputtered out an awkward reply.

“... Thank you. I appreciate that.” The awkward tone caught Sam and Bobby’s attention as Cas sincerely responded.

“You’re welcome.” After the call Dean tries his best to get Cas out of his head and focus on Bobby, but he can help worrying about his friend. After everything the Angel has done he doesn’t deserve to be stuck human, and Dean feels entirely responsible. 

\--Now--

“No thank you.” The memory fades and Dean blocks the sun from his eyes as he pulls out his computer and begins to type. 

“Antiques fascinate people, when they should scare the hell out of them. The things attached to objects that pass through times haunt the living. The dress on the wall, the urn on the porch, the dolls you hang on to from your grandmother. There are things lurking beneath the vale, stories you don’t want to hear about, legends in the night.”

Dean shakes his head and deletes the last few words, he’s starting to sound like a Lord of the Rings script writer.Flagging his waitress he orders another beer and remains focused on the screen.

CASTIEL'S POV  
Dean remains focused on the computer as the angel watches from through the window. He'd been following his hunter for weeks wondering when to approach him. After the Apocalypse, he had to leave; he had to get some space to figure out heaven, his new powers and what those powers brought. Seraphim have different rules, and as a rebel angel Cas was confused, lonely, and most of all he was missing his hunter.   
Dean had been writing, and Cas read every story. The stories of hunts Dean and Sam when on before they knew Cas had been watching over them. Before he pulled Dean out of hell. 

DEAN'S POV  
"Grandma Rose watched from her room, as the hotel died underneath her. She too was an antique and she had no plans on leaving, no she would stay here with the hotel no matter what it took. That was certain. She knew that without her people would die. They were dying. Why couldn't she do anything about it? Why couldn't she move? What was wrong with her?   
Maggie stepped into view next to the boy. "I don't like her," she croaked, staring down the woman who was entirely unaware of the cold source that had her skin crawling. Maggie stepped forward, a menacing grin forming on her ancient features. 'creaaak' 'creeeeeeaaaaak' The swings begin to move; oblivious the woman continues to load the car. 'crrreeeeeeeeakkkk' 'thump' The seesaw begins to thud up and down. The woman walks forward, towards the rhythmic thump, thump, thump before stilling it to silence. The roar of her car jolts her from a confused stupor, her keys still heavy in her pocket. The car roars again, this time into gear. It begins to roll, slowly and then the back tires spin and it careens towards the seesaw with a vengeance. Nowhere to run, no time to move the woman screams, her heart in her throat as she waits for her own car to run her over before the lights go out.   
She wakes in her room, on her bed, a glass of water by her side. Upstairs Maggie has Grandma Rose locked on her. 'He stays with me' she sneers, knowing the woman is unable to fight her any longer. She's finally won."  
Dean sighs as the waitress places a bill next to him.  
"You've been here quite a while, sir. My shifts over so I need to cash you out." She looks at him hoping he'd pick up on her hint. Dean hands her a few bills and a simple "Keep the change" before readjusting to his surroundings. The afternoon has passed into evening and Dean realises he should probably be returning to the motel. Standing stiffly, he returns to his car and gets in, hoping he didn't imagine the flutter of wings that he thought accompanied the bell as he pushed open the swinging door. Nowadays he hears ghosts everywhere.  
Back at the motel, Dean is sitting on the floor of the shower. Cold water runs over his skin as he shivers through a panic attack. Every night Dean prays for Castiel to return, every night Dean cries for his brother, every night Dean is a little more alone. The shower sputters and Dean crumbles.   
'What did I do? It wasn't supposed to be like this. I should be in hell, not Sammy. I should've saved Cas. I should've stayed with Lisa. What did I do?' The words of Cas from so long ago echo in his mind 'You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man I believed you to be'. What would Castiel think of me now? Emptiness engulfed him until he couldn't handle it.   
Dripping wet Dean grabbed the bottle of Jack from his bag and took too many gulps praying the stupor of the alcohol would set in before the terrors started. He lay on the bed as the waves washed over him, numbness slowly creeping in with every drink and finally, he passed out of the reach of the emptiness and into the dreams of blue eyes and black wings; a gun loosely clutched in his grip.

CASTIEL'S POV

Watching Dean panic gets harder every day. Dean is crumbling on his own and Cas needs to help him. He knocks on Bobby's door and is greeted with a shotgun pointed directly at his head.  
"Where the hell have you been. Start talking. Now." Bobby doesn't note the air of concern or sadness in Castiel's eyes. Just the anger in his heart. Cas pauses.   
"Bobby. Dean needs help." The man softens then.   
"Well, why don't you help him then?"  
"I...can't." Cas didn't know what to say beyond that. After the Apocalypse everything became so complicated. Dean wouldn't understand. Bobby wouldn't understand. "He needs family. I am not...family."  
Bobby softens again. "What are you raving about, the boy ain't got no more family than us!" Cas steps back.  
"You just needed to know." And he vanishes from Bobby's view and flies back to Connecticut.   
Dean is right where he left him, and a good thing too. The amount of alcohol in his system could cause him to do anything. Cas approaches the sleeping man with caution. The bottle is almost empty and the alcohol in Dean's vein is stinking up the entire room. With a simple touch, Cas purges about half of it from his system and guarantees a light hangover rather than the one that would've awaited him from that amount of whiskey. Slowly he moves the gun from his hand to a much safer position on the bedside table. He smiles as Dean mutters in his sleep, knowing full well he is doing the right thing by keeping his distance from Dean. 'If I lost Dean, I would lose everything.' To keep him Cas knew he had to stay away. Cas was a rebel, dangerous, a Seraphim with different needs and duties. So many things would want him dead and Cas couldn't make Dean fight for him; He couldn't make Dean die for him. So instead he'd watch his hunter sleep and protect him from the shadows.   
Dean shivered as he rolled onto his stomach. Cas sat on the chair next to the bed and covered him with his wings until morning. When the sun rose Cas stood and faded into the trees to watch the hunter from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some emotions in this one! Hope you all like it. xx


	3. Hopeless Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I will remember the words that you said/Left a clouded mind and a heavy heart/But I am sure we could see a new start/So when your hopes on fire/But you know your desire/Don't hold a glass over the flame/Don't let your heart grow cold/I will call you by name/I will share your road” 
> 
> Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford and Sons
> 
> Dean's getting worse, that much is obvious. Can anything save him at this point?

Dean woke to a headache and guitar riffs. His mouth tasted metallic, a penny on his tongue. 

“He…*chough*...llo?”

“You sound like shit. No get your ass to my house before I have to drag you here boy.” 

“Bobby?” Dean sat up slowly, regretting it more every inch as the blood drained from his skull, “uuuuunnnggggh.”

“Yeah, it’s Bobby, what the hell happened to you?” Bobby’s voice grated his ears and the sun streaming in through the window burned his eyes with its orange glare. 

“A bottle of Jack happened to me, and honestly I’m doing pretty well all things…*hiccup* considered. What’s up Bobby?”

“I had a visitor last night. Dean, get your ass in that damn car and haul it back here.” Bobby’s voice was seeping with concern that had Dean’s skin prickling against the cool morning air. 

“Bobby, what happened. Are you hurt? I’m on my way.” Dean shoved his clothes into the duffel at the foot of the bed without any care and washed several Advil tablets down his throat with water from the tap. “Bobby? Are you okay?”  
“Dean I’m fine. Just get here and I’ll explain. I just need to look at ya.” Telling Dean about Cas over the phone would send him on a wild goose chase which could only end in hopelessness and desperation, though Bobby wasn’t sure why he knew that. The desperation in his voice he couldn’t hide despite how he tried. “Just get here in one piece.”  
The click of the call disconnecting happened before Dean could even process what Bobby had said. There was a sadness and a fear to his voice Dean hadn’t heard since--that hadn’t been there for over a year. Something must be really wrong for him to be so damn broken up. 

Dean left a couple of bills on the nightstand in apology for the disaster of a room he left behind, the smell of whiskey and sweat would probably linger for a while. Dean knew he’d be back to finish the story, not at this motel it would seem. He had to finish the story. But Bobby came first; the old grouch was all he had left in the world, and Dean couldn’t bear it if he lost the one thing holding him up. 

The impala tore onto the road with a growl that flushed a cloud of birds from the nearby trees, sending them squawking into a frenzy. The sun glared onto the hood and the wind rumbled in through the open windows that classic rock blared out of, but the driver noticed none of these things. Just like he failed to notice the presence in the back seat or the slight flicker between stations when the car started up. No, Dean was lost to his thoughts.

Bobby wouldn’t call out of the blue like that. Something had to have happened. For a split second Dean wondered if something to do with Sam had come up. Maybe he’d escaped hell, or Bobby found a way to bring him back. His promise to Sam was already broken; what would it matter if he could bring him back? What if he could have his brother again? The thought of even part of Team Free Will, he smiled at the memory, back would be worth more than a million souls.  
The thought of Team Free Will tugged Dean’s thoughts to the realms he tried to block out. Blue eyes. Black wings. Dean wished more than ever for Cas to answer him. The loss of his best friend hurt more than losing Sam. His brother was gone, in the cage with no escape. Cas... Cas was alive and stronger than ever. He chose this, to leave Dean alone on earth with a broken soul, a broken shell he’s called him. That was definitely the case.

Something wet on his lips brought Dean back to reality, there were tears openly flowing down his cheeks. Why did he only cry when thinking about Castiel? Did he really mean so little to the angel?

The countryside tore by as Dean kept driving, he only stopped for gas and food and pulled into a parking lot in Illinois for a few hours of shut-eye under stars that he couldn’t bear to look at. For the first night in a long time Dean went to bed without a prayer, instead, he went to bed with a hole in his heart and tears in his eyes.

CASTIEL’S POV

Dean was broken, that was clear. Cas yearned to reach out to him. As Dean slept he covered him with his wings again. The man slept soundly, his jacket curled around him as he lay back across the seat. He shifted, a dream playing out across his face; the expressions Dean made, faces of fear and desperation, made it clear the dream was not pleasant. Cas was tempted to try and reach out, into Dean's conscious and soothe his sleep, and as he slid a hand towards Dean’s head to do just that, the man shifted again. The move forced the tight black sleeve of the shirt up to Dean’s shoulder, exposing the faded handprint from so long ago. 

The memory of battles, of the pain of hell, sharpened in Castiel’s mind. He lost himself to the tortures endured all for one man. Hell had left its mark on Dean, but so did he. Looking down Cas realised his hand had found the mark without him noticing. Dean’s skin was warm, soft and gentle underneath his cold palm; the tan in stark contrast to the white of Castiel’s vessel. 

\--3 years ago (or something like that)--

Heat blasted Castiel’s form as he plummeted down. The cacophony of screams, both vicious and agonous, assaulted him from all sides as the energy radiating outward vaporized everything in its path. Castiel spared no thought for the souls, demon or human, that were destroyed; his mission was clear. Rescue the honourable man. Return him to Earth. Return him to faith. This was a mission that could not be failed. This was for the world. This was for the triumph of Heaven. 

Castiel’s grace pierced through the veils of hell. White light conquered the hellish hues of red and green and black that engulfed each personal hell. Souls cowered from the grace and demons charged. The ones that were strong enough to withstand the angel were met with weapons slicing through space with a precision that only comes from centuries of wielding and fighting without thought given to the consequences.  
Downward still the angel plummeted, down through the layers of hell not knowing what awaited him when he reached his goal.

The chains gave way as he slashed into Dean Winchester’s hell. There was a young girl stretched out across a rack, nails slowly piercing her skin from all directions. She didn’t scream or cry out, she was simply paralysed. When Castiel approached her face turned peaceful and she was vaporised within seconds. Only the man with black eyes and a scalpel was left. He stood, poised with anger, ready to attack the being towering over him. Castiel dimmed, his grace retracting from it’s battle formation and forming itself into the vessel of the angel. The towering creature condensed into a tax accountant, albeit a glowing tax accountant, with a hand outstretched to the man. 

Dean was bloody, shaking with what could only be a combination of fear and rage but when Cas looked in his eyes the black faded to the most brilliant green he’d ever seen. Blue and green locked for just a moment, and Castiel’s grace yearned to reach for the man with the kindest eyes the angel had ever seen. The moment passed. Black came back and Dean pounced. A simple touch was all it took to knock the man unconscious, but there was still much to do. The hunter hadn’t completely converted to a demon, the humanity of him still lingered in the centre of his soul, a warm tender glow brighter than any other human soul in hell. Castiel had moments to act before the legions of demons would be on him again. He thrust a hand straight through the hunters chest and began to fuse grace with the demon’s soul. The human glow at the centre began to grow, warmth mixing with the grace and forcing black smoke to well up and away from the body. The soul continued to grow, brighter and warmer until it filled the man and radiated from him. It was the brightest soul Castiel had ever seen. Pure and untinged, even after Castiel recovered his grace the soul burned, a never ending light in the darkness of hell. 

Demons howled and crashed against the personal hell of Dean Winchester, but Castiel took no notice. No. He memorised the soul in front of him, hoping one day he would see it again.  
With a sigh, Castiel's vessel faded and the towering form of the angel took its place; his grace hardened into the shield of pure energy and in the very centre was the hunter, nestled between two small black wings. With a mighty battle cry, the angel shot up through hell like a bullet speeding out of the darkness and into the light. 

Castiel left the soul in its body, buried in soft brown earth. He placed it gingerly not noticing the lingering touch of grace and soul. The final touch, a mark of heaven. Castiel took his vessel's hand and gripped Dean's shoulder. Flesh sizzled. Grace seared a mark, a handprint on Dean's shoulder claiming him for heaven, or that's what Cas believed then. The hand of God.

\--Now--

The handprint was warm under his palm, Dean's soul glowing even brighter with the touch. It was nearly blinding. The warmth filled Cas with every touch, it drew Cas in no matter where he was in the universe he could always feel Dean Winchester’s soul. Here, watching over Dean, was where Castiel felt at peace.  
With a flush of wings though? Everything changes. 

“Hiya Cassie.” The always mildly irritated voice rang out from the dark. 

GABRIEL'S POV

Ever since Lucifer went to hell, things had been, well, hell. Gabriel was on the run, but not really. He was on the run by staying in one place. 

The door of a van slammed and Gabriel hid in the shadows as the gruff old man pulled a pile of books from the back seat and threw them into a now out of use wheelchair. The man grumbled to himself as he struggled to wheel the chair into the house, thankfully he left the ramp up on the side of the porch; it made runs like this much easier. Lately Bobby had been on a research kick about the cage, an idea planted by Gabe of course. Drop a little gossip here, spread an outright lie there, he plants the seeds and, he can't help it, watches them grow. His favourite plaything was in hell, and he'd do anything but go through actual hell to get him back. Or so every other angel thought.  
This was why Gabriel was in hiding. With the command of Michael gone, it falls to him or Raphael to step up and be the big man. Ha. Gabriel will take no part in that thank you very much. He's in witness protection. Besides, there's no fun in heaven; the humans there are all so boring. No one to trick or toy with. It's positively disgusting.  
Bobby's shotgun cocking pulls him out of his thoughts long enough to see Castiel hastily utter something before flying off. What is Cassie doing here? He shakes with excitement as his brother has finally made an appearance, meaning of course that something has changed. And change is F.U.N. 

Bobby is grumbling something about angels being dicks. Accurate. He grumbles about Dean being an idjit. Accurate, and a word Gabriel has taken quite a liking too. Then he grumbles about having nothing better to do than father the broken man. Accurate. Bobby's three for three so Gabriel decides to play a game called Hunter Recon. In the span of about a minute, he visits every hunter, or group, this side of the Atlantic to scrounge for words of the Moose. Nothing. Dammit. Though he did find out that Ash discovered his last little weekend away in Vegas; who could blame him for having some fun in a land of people who deserve their just desserts. Besides, he had an hour off.  
After returning to Bobby's, he sadly perches on the older man's sofa and sucks on the lollypop he stole from a very snotty child two states over. It was raspberry flavoured. Gabriel was pleased. 

The next morning Bobby calls Dean; so that's what this was about. Gabriel quickly lost interest until later in the day when he heard Bobby grumble the simple expression "get laid already". Now that was something he agreed with despite not knowing the context in any way. Perhaps Bobby needed to get laid? Gabriel could do that. Then the man uttered "Idjits, the both of them". SO. This was about Cas and Dean. Maybe he needed to pay his little brother a visit.

CASTIEL'S POV

"Gabriel." Blue eyes narrow at the trickster, a half-finished lolly hanging from his lopsided grin. "What do you want." 

"Hello to you too. Jeez, what got your feathers in a wad?" Castiel frowned at this.

"My feathers are in pristine condition; I groomed them yesterday." He never did understand Gabriel's sense of humour.

"Why are you here?"

"Ah, down to business I see. I just wanted to know if there have been any updates on the Cage." Gabriel quieted at that, his eyes turning sad and hopeful as he teased the lolly with his tongue.

"Sam's soul is still very much locked in the cage. Can't you feel it?" Gabriel nodded. "Why Gabriel? Please don't be thinking of doing something stupid."

Gabriel's false mortification was only half-hearted. "Even I wouldn't be stupid enough to try to pop that box Cassie. We already had Armageddon, I don't exactly love the idea of having it again."

The silence that answered him spoke more than any words. The war was lost and won. All sides gained and lost. The next war started. Castiel just wished he hadn't lost Dean.

"His writing is good, you know." Gabriel broke the silence while looking at the hunter asleep in the impala. 

"I wish he wasn’t writing though. I know what comes when he is finished." Cas let the edge creep into his voice.

"It's still good. Too bad he had to be born a hunter. He'd be a hell of a horror writer." The easy silence eased over them again. "He's going to Bobby's." It wasn't a question. They both knew by now that Dean couldn't be stopped on his little expedition down the lane of time, just delayed. 

"Yes. He had a bad night. Bobby might help." Nothing more was said between them that night. It had all already been said, and the two angels knew where they stood. They sat on the hood of the impala, under the stars, the way their hunters had for so many years. Both prayed, to different people and about different things, but that night the two angels prayed for their hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Gabriel!!! I've got a few more chapters to write before we get some serious action, but things are getting there! I hope you guys like it! Love you xx

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH first chapter! I haven't written fanfiction is ages but this one has been playing around in my head for a while! I've got the first five chapters done and hope to update relatively regularly. Comments and Kudos are my life! Love ya xx


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